Y1, C3: Sheep and Hats
Summer seemed longer than usual. Paradoxically, however, September first came all too quickly; before Remus knew it, he was bidding his father farewell at King's Cross Station. Crowds of people surrounded him, and Remus was very cold. He kept his coat wrapped so tightly around his chest that his father was worried that Remus would cut off blood circulation.
"Bye, Dad. Don't forget to say goodbye to Garrison for me."
"And you'd better write every day," said Remus' dad.
"Every day? I don't know if I can do that."
"Every week, then. And don't forget to feed Bufo."
"I won't forget to feed Bufo."
"And don't get lost on the staircases."
"I won't get lost on the staircases."
"And don't set yourself on fire."
"I won't... I might do that, actually."
"Remus! That's not funny!"
"Sorry, Dad."
Remus' dad lowered his voice. "Write to us on the sixth, okay?"
"I'll try."
"Seriously, Remus. Please." September fifth was the full moon, and Remus dreaded it with all of his heart. He didn't want to think about that right now.
"I will, Dad. Don't worry about me; I'll come right home if something looks off. Dumbledore said that I could leave whenever I wanted, remember?"
"Of course. Keep your voice down. Be careful. And don't tell anyone; not everyone is as kind as Professor Dumbledore."
"Dad. I know." Suddenly, the train whistled, and Remus felt sort of itchy all of a sudden. He was excited, wasn't he? Wasn't this a good thing? Why was he so scared? Nothing awful was going to happen... at least he didn't think so. Well, I guess Gryffindor's out, he thought darkly.
"Best of luck, Remus. I love you." Remus smiled and walked towards the train, wondering if he was going to fall over. He could go back now, but his father would be ever so disappointed. And so would Remus, honestly. I need an education, he repeated to himself as if it were some sort of mantra. This will help me.
He took the first empty compartment he saw and closed the door with a somber finality. He did hope that no one else would want to sit there.
This feeling—this dreaded apprehension—was something that felt very familiar to Remus. It was what he felt during the two hours leading up to the full moon... knowing that it would rise any second, that he would have several seconds of absolute torture and then several hours of the awful loss of control... and then he would transform back in a blur of pain and spend the day on the couch amidst worried parents... and there was nothing he could do about it... all he could do was wait... But no. He wouldn't think about that.
The door opened, and Remus' heart did an unpleasant sort of hop. It reminded Remus of Bufo, a little, who was currently safe in his lap.
"Anyone in here?" asked a small voice that sounded like Remus felt.
"Yeah; right here," said Remus. "You can sit here if you'd like, though."
The boy entered. He was sort of plump, with light blond hair and watery blue eyes that looked nothing like Dumbledore's. "You're certain?"
"Yes."
"Thanks." The boy took a seat across from Remus and played with the hem of his shirt.
There was silence.
Remus felt very awkward.
"Er, I'm Remus."
"Peter."
There was more silence.
"First-year?"
"Yes."
More silence.
Perhaps he doesn't want to talk, Remus thought, and that was okay by him. He pulled out his Defense textbook and began to read, hoping that his stomach would stop hopping.
The train gave another whistle and then began to move. Remus looked up from his book and peered out the window, looking for his father. His father gave a very forced sort of smile and waved. Remus waved back. He kept waving until King's Cross Station was well out of sight.
Nothing was ever going to be the same again, and Remus wasn't sure how to feel about that.
The other boy, Peter, turned out to be very talkative—Remus thought that perhaps it was because he was nervous. Remus' mother tended to get chatty when she was nervous, too. A mere five minutes after the train took off, Peter asked about Remus' father. "That was your dad, hm?"
"Yeah."
"Do you have any brothers and sisters?"
Remus shook his head. "Do you?"
"No. Not even much extended family… save my mum's parents. Do you have grandparents?"
"I think... though I haven't seen them in years." The truth was, Remus' extended family hadn't been too happy about being related to a werewolf; most of them had wanted nothing to do with him. He felt a little guilty, thinking of all the family members that his father had lost due to him. His mum's family weren't close, either (they were Muggles, so there were too many secrets to have a proper relationship)—and besides, they all lived in Wales.
"Oh, that's sad. I love when my grandparents visit. Although they think I'm fun to tease. My grandmother was a Prefect when she went to Hogwarts. Do you want to be a Prefect?"
Remus shook his head again. He couldn't imagine a werewolf Prefect. He couldn't even imagine staying at Hogwarts that long, to be honest. Someone was bound to figure it out soon.
"Neither do I. I doubt I'd be very good at it; I'm not very bright or responsible. Oh! There's the trolley witch. What are you getting?"
"I'm not very hungry."
"Seriously?! Of course you are; you have to eat on the Hogwarts Express! It's part of the experience! Do you have money?"
"Erm, no, but..."
"Here, I'll get you something. Pumpkin Pasty or Chocolate Frog? Those are the best, in my opinion."
"Really, I don't want..."
"Chocolate Frog it is, then. I insist."
Peter's nice, Remus decided as he unwrapped his Chocolate Frog. Perhaps Remus would make friends at Hogwarts after all, even though the word friends made him feel a little ill somewhere deep down.
"You're bright, aren't you?" asked Peter. "That's why you're reading your textbook so early?"
"I'm not, actually. That's why I'm reading my textbook so early."
Peter laughed. "I probably should have gotten a head start, too. But summer's just so fun. Is that your frog?"
"No. It's my pet unicorn."
"What? It looks like a frog to me." Remus made a note to himself to avoid sarcasm in the future with this boy.
"I'm only joking. It is my frog."
"Oh, you're teasing me. I don't always get jokes," Peter said a little sadly. "I try, though. It was kind of obvious, wasn't it? The joke?"
"It's all right," Remus amended. "I just have an odd sense of humor; even my parents don't get it sometimes." That was true. He often had to explain jokes to his mum when they referenced magical things.
"Oh! Your hand! Are you okay?"
Remus' sleeve had slipped past his hand, and his hand was exhibiting a rather nasty injury that hadn't quite healed from the last moon. A wave of panic washed over him.
"Yes—er, Bufo bit me."
"Boofu?"
"Bufo. My toad."
"Oh. I didn't know frogs had teeth."
"Bufo doesn't either, usually. It was a spell gone rather awry." said Remus, taking pride in his own improvisation abilities.
Peter nodded wisely. "One of my friends was practicing his spells on me last summer. I ended up with a weird tentacle on my left arm and boils on my right. It was okay, though; he thought it was funny and it wasn't that painful at all. Plus Mum healed me right up."
Remus' thought that Peter's friend sounded rather unpleasant. He hoped that people wouldn't hex him at Hogwarts, though he knew that it was a very real possibility if they ever found out that he... No. He wouldn't think about that. Not right now.
Time passed, and soon the train slowed to a stop. Remus' stomach flopped again, and then stopped flopping altogether. Remus vaguely wondered if it had died.
Compartment doors slammed and children streamed out of the train, chattering excitedly. It was a little too much, in Remus' opinion. Things were never this loud back at home.
"Why are you covering your ears?" asked Peter.
Remus took his hands down from his ears and laughed nervously. "A bit loud, isn't it?"
"I don't think so. But apparently I have a bad sense of hearing. Mum says that my singing is bad enough to make anyone go deaf."
Remus stepped off of the train, Peter close behind him. Remus felt a sense of pride in having made an acquaintance so quickly. He decided to stick to Peter at all costs, who already seemed to like him and might protect him from getting lost in the crowds.
"Firs' years this way!" a voice called from Remus' left.
"Come on," he said to Peter, who didn't seem to have heard the voice, and pulled him towards a towering man with a very bushy beard.
Remus stared at the man and blinked.
A half-giant? That's what it looked like, at least. If there was a half-giant at Hogwarts, then maybe—just maybe—he wasn't the only one who wasn't completely human...? Maybe he was in good company. Maybe there were other students with creature-related backgrounds, like a Veela, or a half-elf, or a... half-goblin... Perhaps he wasn't so abnormal after all.
"Firs' years, yeh two?" the half-giant asked. "Name's Hagrid."
"Er. I'm Remus. This is Peter."
"Lupin? Remus Lupin? I've heard all about yeh, o' course!"
Remus could feel himself go pale. He was probably exactly the color of porridge, and he did not like porridge at all. He willed his face to regain its color, but—judging from the shade of his hands—his skin was not feeling agreeable today.
"I shouldn't have said tha'," said Hagrid, who was looking quite worried; Remus supposed that he hadn't done it on purpose. That was comforting, at least. Maybe.
"It's... all right. I'm sure lots of the professors remember my father; he was rather eccentric, even when he was a Hogwarts student." Remus smiled, again feeling like the best improvisational actor in the world. Peter didn't look fazed at all by Hagrid's comment, so Remus considered that the lie had been a success.
"Yes, yes... tha's it. Yer dad. Firs' years this way, then!" Hagrid led the group away, looking thankful and guilty all at once. Remus noticed that he avoided looking at Remus after that. Remus supposed that he should probably get used to averted gazes if all the staff were to know about his condition… no. He wouldn't think about that.
He and Peter piled into a small rowboat, along with another scared-looking boy with mousy hair. It was dark, but they could see the castle in the distance—lit-up like a Christmas tree, turrets as high as Big Ben... Remus grinned in spite of himself. What a wonderful place to live. He couldn't help looking for a sort of dungeon or cellar… but then stopped himself. He was going to enjoy himself to the fullest if it killed him. The full moon wasn't for days (though it was close enough to make Remus feel ill and tired, which was a constant reminder of what was coming. That rather spoiled the Hogwarts experience, but he wouldn't dwell on it).
The students descended the rowboats and entered the castle. The incessant chatter was filling Remus' ears, and it was all he could do to keep his hands down by his sides instead of mashing his hands over his ears.
"So big..."
"Wow, look at the fountain!"
"Is that a Whomping Willow?"
Remus glanced to his right. It was indeed a Whomping Willow; he had read about those. It was a bit of a dangerous plant to be so close to a school, he knew, but he expected no less from a school that let its students play Quidditch.
"Mind the tree," Hagrid warned. "It was only planted this year, an' I don't wan' anyone getting hurt." Hagrid glanced at Remus for the first time, and Remus absentmindedly wondered why.
"Good evening," said a voice at the front of the crowd of first-years. Remus couldn't quite see who it was, but whoever it was smelt of parchment. "Gather round—gather round."
The students slowly parted to form a semicircle. The random movement of the crowd reminded Remus somewhat of an amoeba. He didn't really know what an amoeba was, but it felt like an appropriate word to describe this particular scenario.
"My name is Professor McGonagall," said the speaker, "and I shall be your Transfiguration teacher this year."
I don't need any help with Transfiguration, Remus thought in spite of himself, and then nearly smacked himself for thinking thoughts that were bound to dampen his evening.
The woman was still talking, but Remus wasn't listening: he was thinking of sheep (the furthest thing from wolves that he could think of). "Did you know that sheep have rectangular pupils?" he asked Peter. "And their skin secretes a..."
"Shhh, I'm trying to listen," Peter said.
"Of course; sorry." Remus had completely missed whatever the lady had said, but he figured that he would just follow the crowd.
And follow the crowd he did as they finally entered the Great Hall. Remus glanced at the perilously floating candles above him. They did seem as if they could fall at any moment. But the ceiling made up for it—it was just as beautiful as his father had told him. He caught an eyeful of the nearly-full moon above him and then promptly started thinking of sheep again. Remus noticed the Sorting Hat, which looked a little bit different than he'd imagined it after reading Hogwarts, a History. It was singing something, he was pretty sure, but Remus was far too anxious to pay attention. Sheep. Sheep, sheep... sheep... sheepsheepsheepsheepsheep.
"Pettigrew, Peter," said Professor McGonagall, and Peter gave Remus a look of utter terror.
"Why did I have to be first?" he whispered.
"Good luck," said Remus softly, but he wasn't sure that Peter had heard him. Peter walked up to the stool in the front and placed the Hat on his head, looking as if he were about to vomit. It covered almost his entire head.
There was silence.
More silence.
Minutes passed.
Remus heard an occasional whisper from Peter (thanks to his enhanced senses) but couldn't make head or tails of it.
"Please don't send me home, I'll fit somewhere!"
Could the Hat send students home? What if the Hat didn't want to sort a werewolf? What if the Hat could read his mind? Remus tried to recall all that he had read about the Sorting Hat, but in his panic all the information had left his head. Only facts about sheep and werewolves remained, so Remus thought some more about sheep.
"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat finally called, and the sudden noise made Remus want to cry. Or—better yet—go home. Peter looked relieved, though, and Remus clapped along with the rest of the crowd.
More people were Sorted. A few more Gryffindors, including Potter, James (whom Remus recognized and clapped for vehemently). Remus tried to figure out the order of the Sorting. It didn't seem to be alphabetical, by first name or surname. Perhaps it was by magical potential? Peter was one lucky bloke, then.
"Lupin, Remus!"
Apparently, Remus' heart was not done hopping. He heard Bufo croak encouragingly from his pocket, and he walked to the front of the school. All eyes were on him, and it made him want to spontaneously combust. He glanced around at the teachers, and he knew—he just knew—from the looks they were giving him that all of them knew about his condition. Disgust. Curiosity. He hated this, he wanted to go home, stupid Hogwarts, stupid teachers, stupid moon, stupid Hat...
Before he knew it, the Hat was dropped on his head and he couldn't see anything at all.
It was dark—like the cellar—but he definitely wouldn't think about that.
Hm, a werewolf. Never sorted one of those, said the Hat. Remus jumped.
Please don't tell anyone, Remus thought.
The Hat chuckled. It's all right; I have no plans to do so. Well, you're not going in Slytherin. There's no way. You don't care enough about yourself to be a Slytherin.
Remus tried not to think of anything werewolf-related. Did you know that sheep have rectangular pupils? he thought.
You seem like a Ravenclaw. Your father was, you know. But I don't think that you read to gain knowledge; I think it's more ambition—and boredom, of course—than plain curiosity.
Please, please don't tell anyone, Remus thought, or I'll... burn you with one of those floating candles. And then feed you to the Giant Squid.
The Hat chuckled again. Pft. No, you won't. You wouldn't hurt a fly. There's ambition, there is... and you want to prove yourself, of course... but, again, you're not self-oriented enough to be a Slytherin. Perhaps Hufflepuff?
A werewolf in Hufflepuff. Remus nearly laughed.
Why not? Your mind is different from the other students', of course, but not so much that I cannot put you in Hufflepuff...
Different? Remus' heart plummeted. He really was different because he was a werewolf, in body and mind and emotion... You're wrong, he thought forcefully.
I'm always right, my boy. But no, Hufflepuff doesn't feel right either. You have... too much of a... penchant for chaos.
What? I do not.
Yes, you do. You just threatened to burn me with a candle.
"GRYFFINDOR!" called the Hat, and Remus covered his ears and took the Hat off as fast as possible. He walked to the Gryffindor table (he hoped it was the Gryffindor table; it would be embarrassing if it wasn't), sat next to Peter, and tried to forget the entire conversation. Gryffindor? What? He wasn't brave. Remus had spent the entire last fifteen minutes thinking of sheep because he was too afraid to even think about werewolves. Just because of one tiny comment, he had been put into a house of people with whom he did not belong?
"Congrats, Remus!" said Peter. "I'm so happy we're in the same House! We're going to be such good friends!"
Friends. The word still made Remus' skin crawl, but he couldn't tell whether it was in a good way or a bad way. "Thanks, Peter. I'm sure we will."
A stringy boy with spectacles to Remus' right spoke up. "Remus, was it? I'm Ray Puttle, one of the Gryffindor Prefects. Are you all right? You look quite pale."
"I think he's always pale," Peter offered.
They were interrupted by a cry of "GRYFFINDOR!" from the Hat—but this one was not met with applause.
"That's a Black, that is," whispered Puttle. "They're all in Slytherin."
The boy (Black?) gave an obnoxious whoop of joy and all but sprinted to the Gryffindor table. He did a sort of acrobatic jump into the chair next to James, who high-fived him. Black, who seemed to be a little bit too eager about the high five, accidentally hit James in the face, and James was so surprised that he knocked over an empty goblet, which crashed to the floor with a very loud CLANK that echoed throughout the Great Hall. James and Black began laughing hysterically, and much of the rest of the school soon followed.
"Foster, Marian?" called McGonagall over the din: thus the Sorting continued.
Remus closed his eyes and thought of sheep.